Sleepy Fox Hollow Gain the weight of you, then lose it

Set the day after this thread, just to move things along! For @Phaedra and @Mahler no need to match this ridiculous length

Wylla's dreams that night were as horrifying as they were fantastic, fed by blistering fever as they were.

She dreamed that Thade and Phaedra had formed ranks with Tiercel and were hunting her across a red and purple landscape. No matter where she went, they found her. They bayed on her trail and sought to spill her blood, denounced her as the worst thing that ever happened to them, and she believed them. She ran for her worthless life, but more than once, turned back with the desperate wish to give them what they wanted, if only to give them something for once...

She dreamed that Mahler stood before her in the meeting place on Nova Peak with twelve women at his back and bragged of his conquests, of how each had borne him stronger and better children, how he could never love a creature such as her and mean it, while they jeered and laughed from behind his shoulder, while he cast her out and slammed down the axe that at last severed her remaining self worth from her...

She dreamed that he died in the cave on Nova Peak and, howling rage and screaming gale, she had gone to the cliffs with the intent of avenging him, only to throw herself into a cascading white sea filled with finless, eyeless fish with jagged teeth the size of elk antlers...

She dreamed that Lycaon and Ingram were tearing each other apart on the cold beach of Grimnismal, each of them crying out for her support, and she was frozen there and unable to help...

She dreamed that she was in Stag's strong embrace, that she whelped him five children in the spring of the year only for them to all come out looking like Mahler, and it broke her heart to know them, and it broke Stag's heart to know she still loved him...

She dreamed of Stag with his throat torn out while Mahler swallowed his flesh and claimed that he was Stigmata now, while blue-furred imps praised him in the background...

Each dream sent her into fits where she would whimper and kick her legs, likely drawing the attention of the two who stood watch over her. She sometimes mumbled words in her sleep, words of regret and words of resolve alike. Once or twice, she cried out to whatever dread gods must exist in this forsaken world, pleading for death. Her blood pressure dipped on occasion, but always managed to right itself, and by some miracle, and the combined efforts of Phaedra and Mahler, Wylla made it through the night.

Her fever broke in the early morning and she slipped into a much deeper, dreamless sleep after that. It was only a matter of time before it returned—infection still ravaged the wound on her shoulder, threatening to reach into her bloodstream, where it would become fatal—but the berries Phaedra applied seemed to have helped stymie it somewhat. The leaves Mahler had forced into her mouth had taken effect and calmed the raging storm in her body enough that when late morning came and she cracked open her eye, Wylla was greeted with a splitting headache and a mouth that felt like it was full of sand, but she knew where she was.

She was still hot, though, and still breathing quickly. Wylla shifted to slowly stretch herself out as though to expose more of herself to the cool mountain air. It took her a long time to gather her bearings, but when she did, she was surprised to see the sun-brushed figure of her daughter nearby, and the scent of Phaedra and her father all around. Why were they here? How had they found her? How had she got here?

She parted her lips to speak Phaedra's name, but all that came out was a dehydrated croak.